


extant.

by iStuhler



Category: Dead To You - Lisa McMann
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-06
Updated: 2016-10-06
Packaged: 2018-08-19 21:54:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8225957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iStuhler/pseuds/iStuhler
Summary: Grace is walking through the open-air market in Buffalo when she sees him. He’s tall, he’s got blond hair that’s so dark it’s almost brown, and… and there’s something about him that feels familiar.Her hand pauses on the apple that she’s about to pick up to put in her bag, because she’s quite certain that she knows this man. How she knows him she’s not quite sure, but as she watches him at the pumpkin stand appraising one (for carving, maybe?) she feels… like she wants to go up and talk to him.Which is weird. She shouldn’t do that.





	

Grace is walking through the open-air market in Buffalo when she sees him. He’s tall, he’s got blond hair that’s so dark it’s almost brown, and… and there’s _something_ about him that feels familiar. 

Her hand pauses on the apple that she’s about to pick up to put in her bag, because she’s quite certain that she _knows_ this man. How she knows him she’s not quite sure, but as she watches him at the pumpkin stand appraising one (for carving, maybe?) she feels… like she wants to go up and _talk_ to him.

Which is **weird**. She _shouldn’t_ do that.

She pays for the apples quickly and scoots closer, holding her purchases in her arms. She does it under pretense that she’s perusing other stands, and though she stares down at artichokes, she keeps the man in her peripheral vision. When he decides not to buy a pumpkin and moves onto the next stand, she follows discretely, taking her turn to look at the pumpkins and gourds. 

For the life of her, she can’t figure out _why_ she’s intrigued by him. Maybe he reminds her of someone else, maybe she’s seen him around town before, maybe…

“How much for this?” she hears him say, and his voice is what makes the link in her mind.

_She’s suddenly six again, standing on her brother’s knees and holding his hands. He bends his knees and she lifts up. “What did you do before I was here to play with you?” he asks her, his voice teasing, and she grins at him and says, “I was waiting for you.”_

“Ethan?” Her voice comes out quiet, almost shy, but she knows she’s got it right when the man turns, confusion on his face until… until he sees her. His curious eyes stare at her face, and she can see the _exact_ moment he recognizes who she is. 

“…Gracie?”

She knows he’s not the _real_ Ethan, but she also knows that he’d thought he _was_. Her parents had told her what had happened when he’d come back to them as their long lost son, how he’d struggled to remember who he’d been before he’d been abducted… and then how they’d found out that the _real_ Ethan had been killed shortly after the abduction… and that _this_ Ethan had run. Her mother had told her after her father had gone to bed that she’d wanted to go looking for him, wanted to take him in and adopt him, wanted…

But her father had had none of it, not wanting the unstable teenager anywhere near their _real_ family. Even at six, Grace remembers missing her big brother more than she’d ever missed anyone. She remembers Blake being proud about exposing Ethan… or whatever his name was… as a fraud, til he’d said some offhand comment about how they should have realized that Ethan had been fake and her mother had slapped him on the cheek and told him to _be quiet, Blake_.

And now… here he is, hundreds of miles away from Belleville. He called her _Gracie_. She drops her bags, runs at him, and wraps her arms around him, _tight_. She can feel him stiffen, but after a few moments she feels his arms wrap around her and soon he’s holding her just as tightly.

“What are you doing here?” they both ask at the exact same time, and he steps back a little and chuckles nervously. 

“I, uh… live here,” he says. “You?”  
  
“I go to school here. College.”

He makes a quiet noise in the back of his throat, as if he can’t believe she’s really that old. “When I last saw you, you were six.” He pauses, and then: “You still carry around that lunch box?” He means it as a joke, she can tell, but… there’s also a note of something else in his voice. Nostalgia? Pain? And the way he’s looking at her, as if he’s trying to drink everything in…

She laughs. “Don’t be stupid; I haven’t in a long time.” She’s surprised how easy it is to talk to him, even after everything. “I can’t believe you’re _here_ … are you still… what’s your… name?” Can she even ask that? Is she allowed to?

He swallows; she can see the movement in his throat, the tightening under his skin. “Ethan,” he says, a note of… is that an apologetic tone in his voice? “I thought… I was so sure, and the name felt so _right…_ ”

“She wanted to find you and adopt you,” Grace blurts out without meaning to. The effect is instantaneous; even though she hadn’t specified that ‘she’ was her mother, Ethan understands immediately, and his entire body stiffens.

“I don’t think that—”

“It doesn’t _matter_. You were a _kid_ , Eth, you were out on your _own_ …” The nickname slips out without her realizing it, and she sees Ethan shift, the tightness at the corners of his eyes softening just a little. “They should have _done_ something instead of leaving you there to deal with everything by yourself.”

“Gracie—”  
  
She hasn’t gone by Gracie since she was ten, but she can’t bring herself to correct him. She likes the way her name sounds spoken by him. “No, Ethan, look—they’re in town visiting me, they’re just over there—” She jerks her thumb over her shoulder, to the other side of the market. “You should talk to them.”

She watches as Ethan’s gaze follows her thumb and his eyes fall on them. Blake, who’s tall and skinny and holding a bag of peaches. Dad, whose hair is going gray and wears glasses now. Mama, who is still short and plump and smiling as she pays the cashier for the peaches that no doubt are for Grace. 

“No,” he says, his heart falling into the pit of his stomach. “No, Gracie, I can’t…”  
  
“You _have_ to, Ethan, you _have_ to talk to them…”

“I _can’t_.” The tightness in his voice is apparent, and he grips his hands into fists. “It was… it was good to see you, but I… I just…” His eyes dart between her and the rest of them, just waiting for them to look up and see him. She can see the pure _panic_ on his face, his body struggling with the fight-or-flight reaction.

He’s about to run. Again. 

But this time… this time, he reaches for a brochure for the fruit seller’s stand that they’re standing in front of, and picks up a pen, scrawling something down onto it. “Here,” he says, handing it to her. “My phone number. If you… if you want it.”

She takes it, and slips it into her purse. “I’ll text you,” she promises him, “though I wish you would stay…”

“I can’t.”

She doesn’t understand; she _can’t_ understand. Instead, she leans in and hugs him tightly, and impulsively presses a kiss to his cheek. When she pulls away, his cheeks are pink, and his eyes are rimmed in red.

“It was good to see you,” he says, his voice almost a whisper. And then he’s gone, turning and heading towards the parking lot. She watches him go until she sees him disappear into a car, and then she watches as it pulls out of the lot and drives down the street and out of sight.


End file.
